


HAUNTING

by AgnesClementine



Category: Supernatural, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Gen, Heist, Hunt, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 05:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15834483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesClementine/pseuds/AgnesClementine
Summary: The one where Len and Mick and the Winchesters break into the same museum.***“Haven’t you heard about murders?” The tall guy asks them.Of course they have. That’s why Len picked this place. The victims are night guards and it happened enough times that the museum cut off the night shifts. And since the murders have a pattern, a cycle, Len knew the place will be totally empty tonight.At least it was supposed to be.





	HAUNTING

**Author's Note:**

> Like additional tags say, this is totally self- indulgent. I got this idea for crossover and now I can't shake it off.  
> Again, not sure why Len and Mick are younger than the Winchesters, but *shrugs* that's how it is. 
> 
> Comment to let me know what you think and enjoy!

Len looked in Mick’s wide, surprised eyes, flashlight gripped in his hands, before pulling him in for a kiss.

The museum was supposed to be empty, he thinks as footsteps and hushed whispers grew louder and closer. They’re just around the corner now. The corner they have to pass to get out of here. Mick presses him against the wall next to some antique and undoubtedly highly valuable vase, his hands on Len’s hips and ready to sneak under his shirt when a light momentarily blinds them.

“Whoa! Jesus Christ, kids!” There’s more spluttering and shouting, but that exclamation is the loudest.

Mick and Len jump apart, faux caught.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The guy, short hair, about Mick’s height, asks and waves his flashlight around. His companion, taller guy with shoulder-length hair clears his throat behind him.

“Yeah, we- well, fuck. Okay, my dad works here and I, ah, I swiped his keys.” Mick lies, scratching the back of his neck. They checked the guards before coming in and none of them are black or married to a black woman and while these guys might not know it, they don’t want to risk anything.

The older guy, the one with short hair, rolls his eyes. Perfect, annoying teenagers are rarely considered… well, anything except annoying.

“Haven’t you heard about murders?” The tall guy asks them.

Of course they have. That’s why Len picked this place. The victims are night guards and it happened enough times that the museum cut off the night shifts. And since the murders have a pattern, a cycle, Len knew the place will be totally empty tonight.

At least it was supposed to be.

“We didn’t think… Who are you?” Len pipes up for the first time.

“Guards Plant and Jones, we’re new.” Older guy, Plant apparently, explains.

It sounds fake, like Len already heard those names somewhere, but he nods. It doesn’t help their case that they’re not wearing guard uniforms, but whatever.

“I thought they cut off the night shifts,” Mick announces. Len sneaks a look at him; he’s looking at Plant and Jones with covered suspicion. Len can see it clear as day, though.

Jones steps beside Plant, “The higher-ups were worried about their relics and we need money, so…” he trails off with a shrug.

“Right.”

Len is figuring out a way how to shake off these guys now, so they can go back to what they came here to do, but there’s suddenly a high pitched noise, like a whine. They all flinch at it, looking around and trying to figure out where it’s coming from.

“Son of a bitch! We’ve got to get them out of here!” Plant says and then Len is being pulled out of the hallway, Jones’ arm around his shoulders and guiding him towards the room with main exhibits. He has a second to see Mick being led in a similar fashion by Plant and then the power cuts off.

There’s cursing, barely audible over the noise and ringing it causes in Len’s ears.

“Shit!” Plant swears, aims a strobe of light at one of the walls. The glass that separates the exhibit from them is vibrating and then starts to crack the louder and higher the noise gets. “Shit! Get down! Everybody get down!”

Len quickly lays down, realizing the same thing that Plant is; this whole room is covered with glass and vibrations are gonna make it burst. Jones’ elbow knocks into his when they’re covering their heads and Len finds Mick’s silhouette, laying few inches away, before he shuts his eyes and the spray of shattered glass rains over them.

The noise stops.

“Is everybody okay?” Plant asks into darkness, his flashlight casting a path of light over the floor. The light reflects from glass fragments, making them glint like diamonds strewn across the ground.

Mick touches his forearm lightly, his arm stretched over the floor between them.

“You alright?”

“I’ll tell you when my ears stop ringing.”

They haul themselves to their feet, shaking the glass off their clothes. Len turns on their own flashlight, aims it at Mick so he can pluck the glass from his hair.

“I think so. What the hell was that?” Jones wonders from behind him. Len doesn’t like him towering behind him, so he moves a bit to the side with Mick.

“Don’t go too far!” Plant warns them. Like a chaperone on a field trip.

“I think that’s all.” He tells Mick, casts a glance at Plant and Jones who are currently also picking glass out of their hair. Pros of a buzz cut just keep piling up.

Mick takes him by the elbow to get his attention. “Those are fake names. Led Zeppelin.” Mick tells him quietly.

Len hums, not exactly surprised. “Thought they sounded familiar.” Len is not too big on music, any kind, but Mick loves having something playing in the background when he’s doing something and he’s especially partial to classic rock.

Mick is waiting for him to establish a course of action.

“If they don’t know that we know, we’re in advantage. Let’s keep it that way. For now.” Len says.

“Something’s off.” Mick remarks and Len presses his lips in a thin line.

“Yeah, I noticed it too.” There’s just something weird about the air, some vibe that’s making his hackles rise.

“We’re sticking with them?”

Len shrugs, “What are the chances they know what’s going on?” Len doesn’t do half-assed intel and there was nothing about night shifts picking up again. Those guys know what’s going on here and they don’t feel like sharing.

Mick hums. “Let’s go then.”

  * ●●●●



The longer they stick around with Plant and Jones- Len is not calling them Older guy and the Tall guy, so aliases is what he’s sticking with for now- the more obvious it becomes that they have no idea where they’re going.

And they can’t get out. The door was closed hard enough that it might as well be soldered. Wouldn’t budge an inch.

“We should find a backup generator.” Plant says as they walk through another hallway, glass crunching beneath their boots. Len swipes a necklace laced with gold and silver and shoves it in his pocket.  _That’s another one of Lisa’s ice skating lessons paid_.

Plant goes behind a right corner, Jones at his heels and Mick and Len clean a showcase on each side of the hall with a smooth sweep.

“Storage room is left.” Len says. He- _unlike some other people here_ \- took his time to remember the blueprints.

Plant and Jones retreat, spluttering how “ _Yeah, we knew that_ -“ and “ _We’re new here, still getting a feel for the place._ ”

_Right_.

But finding the backup generator is a fantastic idea because it is in the storage room- just like their bags.

“So,” Plant clears his throat, “you kids got names?” He asks to fill the silence.

“I’m Adam, this is Nick.” Len says, smirks as Mick grimaces at him behind their backs.

“Couldn’t you go make out in a car in a parking lot somewhere?” Plant asks further, a bit sharply. Like Len and Mick could know this would happen and wanted to be stuck here.

“Actually, I’m an art student and I wanted to see some paintings here, but since the museum is closed…” Len explains smoothly.

“Oh, you were looking at the paintings?” Plant throws a look at them over his shoulder, as in “ _I caught you making out behind a vase._ ”

Len smirks, “I can multitask.”

Plant looks at Mick, “He’s always this cheeky?”

Mick sighs, “You’ve got no idea.”

Len flashes him a grin. Despite the potential danger of this situation, it’s kind of fun; suppose Len loves lying as much as Mick loves a good fight and setting stuff on fire. Good thing they’re both good at what they love.

Plant shakes his head- and takes a wrong turn again.

  * ●●●●



They’re running. Len doesn’t know why they’re running, but they are and Len is just getting a taste of how hard it is to run over the glass. It’s surprisingly slippery.

So they slip their way through another hallway and then Len can hear it. The faint whispering that makes his skin crawl. He throws a look at Mick, his breath coming out as a wisp of white smoke. It’s suddenly cold enough here to make even Len feel a bit chilly.

“Damnit. _It is_ a spirit.” Plant grouches and- _what?_

Len and Mick exchange a ‘ _did he say what I think he did?_ ’ look and Len wonders what the fuck is actually going on.

Then something flickers in the corner of his eye and Mick pulls him back by his wrist just as a, a- _a woman manifests_ in front of them, standing in the spotlight made by their flashlights. There are long, deep gashes running from the side of her face all the way to her stomach. But they don’t look like animal claws, more like something a hayfork would leave. Len is not squeamish, can’t afford it, but it just looks wrong to see someone with such wounds still alive. Or not alive?

He doesn’t have a chance to ponder over that because Plant and Jones shoot her. She disintegrates in an explosion of ashes and Len gets pulled away, down the hall before he can see the ashes hit the ground.

He almost misses it, processing what he saw, but he throws his hand out in the last moment.

“Storage!” He shouts, stepping into a dark room when Plant takes his place to herd Mick and Jones inside. He shuts the door and then the search for the back- up generator begins. Well, Plant and Jones are searching, Len saunters to the far right corner and opens the metal box attached to the wall.

“I think I found it!” He calls and turns the switch. The groans echo through the room when their eyes get assaulted by the light and the buzzing from the generator fills the background.

“Whew, alright. You kids should go home now, the door will probably open now.” Plant says, but then Jones steps in.

“Wait. Who are you two actually? I mean, you just coincidentally know where the backroom is?” He questions Len and, _cute_ , _he_ thinks he got _them_ made.

Len arches one eyebrow at him without missing a beat. “You really think we haven’t sneaked in here before?” _They haven’t_. “Also, better question; who are you two? You know, besides Led Zeppelin fans?”

They look put out, surprised and grasping for an explanation.

“And what the fuck was that?” Mick adds, pointing at the door and referring to the creepy ghost- lady. Or whatever she was.

“Alright. I’m Dean, that’s my brother Sam. And that was a ghost.” Plant- or Dean- says.

“Called it.” Len mutters to himself, then because that explains close to nothing, “Ghost?”

“Sometimes, people die with unfinished business, so there’s something keeping them from passing on.” Sam tells him.

“And they become ghosts.” Mick voices.

“Bingo,” Dean says.

“And you’re what, _ghost hunters_?” Len asks.

“Something like that,” Dean says, “ghost hunters, demon hunters, werewolf, vampire, you name it.”

“Whoa, vampires are real?” Mick asks for clarification, holding his hand up in stop sign.

“Yep.” Dean confirms and Mick turns to grin at Len. Len groans.

“You’re gonna hold this over my head forever, won’t you?”

“Forever.”

_Fantastic_.

  * ●●●●



“So how do you get rid of a ghost?” Len finds himself asking. _He should’ve just stayed in bed this morning_.

“Find its remains or the object they’re tied to and salt and burn ‘em.” Dean responds, leading them back to that main room where shit hit the fan. They could have left, but to be honest, _Len is too fucking curious about this to pass it up._

They had to leave the bags there because the hunters wouldn’t leave them alone and Len still doesn’t want to reveal they came here to rob the place, but they’ll grab them when this mess is over. It’s not like they came in through the front door, so coming back in won’t be the problem. Especially since they came in through the storage room the first time.

Mick is a warm, comforting presence next to him, giddy from the ‘monsters are real’ reveal and whispering “ _Told you vampires exist_ ” every now and then. Len is never going to hear the end of that.

Soon there’s that weird feeling again, similar to that of being watched but not quite the same. And temperature drops. The same thing happened last time before the ghost showed up, so Len’s keeping his guard up extra high. He doesn’t like the thought of going against something that can hurt him, but he can’t hurt back.

His alertness is probably the only reason why he notices her lurking behind the corner.

“There!” Dean shoots her and then they’re running again.

Sam reaches the main room before him, so Len can see him hitting the wall like he was pushed as all the lights are on again. Sam struggles up, but eventually manages to get on his feet- just for Len to realize he’s pinned to the wall and being lifted off his feet. That can’t be good.

“Sam!” Dean yells when Sam makes a choked- off noise, gasping for air, and starts aiming his gun at the air. “Son of a bitch! I don’t know where she is!”

Len remembers what he said earlier. “What’s the object?”

“What?” Dean turns frantic eyes at him.

“The object she’s tied to. What is it?” He specifies, rolling his eyes.

“Urn, her urn! It’s got leaves over it or something!” Dean yells and goes back to pointing his gun at… nothing.

Mick makes a soft noise next to him- then shoves an urn in his hands. It’s painted with golden branches and veiny leaves all over. _Huh_. He casts a puzzled look at Mick, who’s avoiding his eyes awkwardly, and then turns back to Dean.

He whistles to get his attention and when Dean looks at him, presents him with the urn.

“Catch.”

Dean catches it clumsily, “How did you-“

Len shrugs, points at random, empty showcase next to him that definitely wasn’t for an urn. “It was there.”

Dean makes a ‘well, damn’ face and throws the urn on the ground. It crashes, breaking into pieces and Len watches as Dean sprinkles it with salt and some liquid- gasoline, by the smell- and throws a lit match at the mess.

Len looks at Mick, who’s got his eyes on the small fire in front of them and takes a hold of his wrist. “You with me?” He asks quietly.

Mick glances back at him and gives his hand a squeeze with his free one, “Yeah, I’m here.”

The quiet moment is disrupted when a shriek sounds off, the woman finally appearing. She’s flickering like a glitchy hologram, in and out of existence within a blink. Then she starts burning around the edge, more and more of her eaten away by the fire until she bursts. And then she’s gone.

There’s a thud and Sam is coughing, gasping for air. Dean runs to him immediately.

The fire is still burning.

“That can’t be safe.” Len comments. Mick grunts next to him.

“Better to leave it than try to stump it out. You’d probably catch on fire too.” He says.

Len hums and they turn to the brothers.

“You okay, Sam?” Len asks, though it’s more out of politeness than anything else.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Sam coughs out, rising to his feet.

They all look around at what’s left of the room; glass and exhibits are strewn across the floor, the small fire still burning near the center.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.” Dean grunts and everyone trudges after him when he turns to leave.

  * ●●●●



“I can’t believe we robbed a museum under noses of people who hunt monsters for the living.” Len announces when the brothers fold themselves into their sleek, black muscle car- Mick informs him it’s Chevy Impala from 1967.

Mick grunts in response.

“By the way, why’d you lift an urn?” Len asks him then.

Mick makes a strangled noise. “I thought it was a vase.”

“With a lid?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t thinking!”

Len snorts. “Only you, Mick.”

They fall into a comfortable silence until Mick speaks again.

“You know what sucks?” He slings an arm around Len’s shoulders.

“That it wasn’t vampires?”

“That it wasn’t vampires.”

Len pats his hand in consolation.

  * ●●●●



It’s the morning after the museum fiasco and Dean is enjoying a well-deserved shower in their motel room in Keystone when Sam shouts his name.

“Get in here! Quick!”

He almost breaks his neck in the process, but he manages to wrap a towel around himself before hurrying out of the bathroom.

Sam is sitting in front of a TV.

“What?”

“Watch.”

Dean watches.

“Live from the crime scene, it seems that Central City National Museum has been robbed. The theft was reported when a guard from morning shift was doing a routine check and found out almost half of the museum’s valuables has gone missing-“

“Son of a bitch.” Dean says, realization hitting him.

“They weren’t horny teenagers- they were robbers.”

He also can’t find his wallet.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask why an urn was in museum, I just realiized it doesn't really make sense and I'm too lazy to rewrite anything. :/


End file.
